When You Come Back To Me
by flashpenguin
Summary: Set five years after "American Solider". Joss finds herself in Colorado trying to locate Conrad Taylor and his family. One clue leads to another until the final revelation. How will she react to the information? Moreover, what will she do with it? *Post ep to "Dead Reckoning".


_I know some readers wanted an update on this story. I don't know if this is what they were looking for, but for some reason it wanted to be told. Somehow it leaves more questions than answers, but it wouldn't be POI if it didn't, right? Maybe it will explain why Joss was incommunicado with Reese for six episodes after "Dead Reckoning". I hope you like it._

 _I don't own Person of Interest_

 _Song prompt: "When You Come Back To Me" by Garth Brooks_

 **When You Come Back to Me**

Colorado. December 2012.

Joss guided the car to the side of the road and shoved the engine into park. Reaching over to the passenger seat she lifted the old envelope and scanned the address. From what GPS told her, she was in the right area, but there was no house—just an empty field in need of attention. It had happened before that GPS had sent people in the wrong direction.

Turning off the engine, she grabbed the keys and stepped out into the road. She looked around the area for any signs of life. In the distance she noticed smoke rising. It had to be a house, she reasoned. Zipping up her jacket, she trudged forward. The wind blew cold and wet, but she braved it and walked down the lonely road to the driveway.

Trudging slowly down the dirt path, she rehearsed what she would say. But what if they didn't know? She shook her head. No worse case scenarios; only positive thoughts.

She climbed the steps to the porch. An old hound dog lay on a pillow bed. He raised his head, growled a little, then laid back down.

"Some guard dog you are," Joss chastised before raising her fist to knock on the door. It was a minute before she heard the shuffle of feet from inside, then the locks were turned. She took a deep breath.

"Can I help you?" the old man with a scruffy beard asked. His voice was gravelly from the combination of years of working in the elements and smoking. His coveralls were old and faded with a few stray patches to cover the threadbare spots.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Joss apologized. "My name is Joss Carter. I'm trying to find Conrad Taylor."

"Conrad Taylor?" the old man repeated. He shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"He lived here. It was about forty years ago." Joss handed the envelope over. "My dad served with him in the Army," she continued as though the extra information might trigger a memory or recollection. "This is the last known address I have for him."

The old man studied the address. He frowned, then his face brightened. A little life seemed to come back to his faded brown eyes. "The Taylors. Yes. Yes. I remember them. Nice guy—a soldier," he recalled as the memories came back in a flood. "Lived right up the road." He pointed in the direction Joss had walked from. "Nice family."

"Do you know where they live?" Joss asked. Finally a lead, but she had to tap down her her bubbling enthusiasm.

The old man shook his head. "No. After the accident, they moved away."

"Accident?"

"Mine collapsed. Took a toll on the town. Businesses left. People, too," he recalled sadly.

"Do you know where they moved to?" Joss probed for an answer. It was imperative that she find the man who saved her dad and thank him.

"The family? I ain't got no idea on that one," the old man replied with a shrug. "But this one." He pointed to Conrad. "You can find him in the cemetery."

Joss paused as she tried to wrap her head around the information. "The what?" She had been prepared for anything but that. The speech she had rehearsed so many times went out the window along with her hope of meeting the man who had changed her life.

"Cemetery. About seven miles east."

"He-he's dead?" Joss felt her heart fall to her knees. How was that possible?

"Sad loss. Good man. He had just gotten back from a trip to New York City with his son, and was getting ready to move to Washington or Oregon to start a farm. Don't know why anyone wants to move out there," he groused. "Got perfectly good land here."

"How did he die?"

"He was in the mine when it collapsed. Could have been worse, but he sacrificed his life for his men." The old man's eyes misted as the memory constricted his heart. "They hit a weak spot in the earth, and the whole damn thing caved it—at least that's what the inspectors said. But Conrad acted fast and got his men out thru the ventilation shaft before the air was filled with methane gas. They found him alone in the area."

"Oh," Joss breathed. Her heart squeezed painfully. "Did anyone else die?"

"Nope. Just him. He had a chance to get out, but he switched places with a guy with a broken leg. He was the last one out. Great man. Great loss."

"Do you have a picture?" Joss asked politely.

"Come on in." The man held the door open for Joss to enter. He closed it behind her. "Go ahead and take a chair," he offered. "Coffee?"

Joss settled into the large overstuffed chair. "No. No, thank you. I'm fine."

"You wait there. I'll be back in a minute."

Joss looked around the large room. It was cluttered, but clean. One picture hung on the wall covered with cabbage rose wallpaper. The TV was on, but muted, and on the coffee table was a partially smoked cigarette still smoldering in the ash tray. By the right side of the door was a stack of newspapers; to the left lay a dog bed.

She rubbed her arms despite the room being a little too warm from the fire burning in the large wood stove.

"Here you go." The man walked back into the living room. In his hands he carried a well worn scrapbook. Joss straightened up in the chair.

"Here are the news articles." He turned the pages slowly. Joss's eyes focused on the small picture in the centre of the paper.

"Who is that?" She pointed to the little boy with dark hair and sad expression.

"Conrad's son. John, I think. He and my boy went to school together," the man revealed.

"Do you have any school pictures?" Joss mentally crossed her fingers that she hadn't stepped over the line, but she felt so close to discovering something new—something she hadn't considered when she started her journey.

"Right here." The pages were flipped. "That's him." A gnarly finger settled on the same kid.

Joss squinted. There was something familiar about the smile and eyes. Where had she seen them before?

"They stayed for about a couple years, got the settlement. Then the widow married some guy from a county over. I think he wanted to plant apple trees in Washington. Lost contact."

"Oh." Joss felt her heart fall.

"But John did write my son," the old recalled suddenly. "Not many letters. But he did write one to let us know that he was joining the Army. Then that whole Desert Storm thing happened. We lost touch with him."

Joss forced a smile. It was nice to know that John had joined the Army, but that didn't help her track down Conrad's son. She closed the book.

"Thank you for your time. I should be going."

"Glad I could help." He could tell by the look in her eyes that he had failed, but that couldn't have been helped. He only knew what he knew. Which wasn't much.

Joss pushed herself to her feet. She wasn't really looking forward to the long cold walk back to the car, but the sooner she got back on the road, the sooner she could get back to New York. Then she could break the news to her mother.

Buttoning up her coat, she glanced up at the bookcase. Her eyes caught the gold metal frame. She walked over to investigate.

"Who is that?" She drank in the familiar blue eyes and serious expression on the man dressed in Army dress uniform. Just like the one she had received in the military records. Then it dawned on her. It was the Man In The Suit! Conrad's son—the one who had visited her so long ago—was the same man whom she had been chasing, the same one who had saved her and Taylor so many times.

"He sent us that before he was deployed. Last we heard from him," the old man said sadly. "Don't know what became of him. I hope he's had a good life. He was a good kid."

"I think—I think he's had a pretty good life," Joss replied carefully. She didn't want to reveal too much. What could be accomplished by telling the old man that the kid he regarded as a second son had grown up to be a hired killer for the CIA, and was now a fugitive with a whole NYPD task force trailing him?

"I hope so." The old man reached over. "Do you want it?" he asked out of the blue.

"What? No, I couldn't."

"No, I insist." He thrust the picture at Joss.

"I have one," she argued. The old man looked at her in surprise. "In here." She touched her heart. It was corny, but what else could she say?

"Take it. I want you to have it." He placed the picture frame in Joss's hands effectively cutting off any other protests.

Joss lovingly stroked the frame. "Thank you." She looked at her watch. "It's getting late. I should go. It was nice talking to you."

"The pleasure was all mine. You have a safe trip going back home." He opened the door. A blast of cold air hit them. Joss shivered.

"Thank you."

"Feel free to come back." Empty words. But one could wish, right?

"I might." She extended her hand. "Thank you for your time."

The old man took her hand. "You're welcome." He looked down at the old hound. "Come on, Blue. It's time for dinner." On old rickety legs, the hound pulled himself up. He gazed at Joss with sorrowful brown eyes. So much like his owner, she thought to herself. Reaching down, she scratched the dog's head.

"Bye, Blue."

He wagged his tail before disappearing into the warm house.

"Bye."

"Bye."

Turning on her heel, Joss walked down the steps toward the dirt path that would lead her to the car.

The wind blew hard and cold, so she picked up the pace. Once at the car, she unlocked the door and got inside. Turning on the engine, she let the heater blow on high to take the chill out of the interior. Before she left Colorado she had one more stop.

Guiding the car thru the gates of the cemetery, she parked and walked the aisles. She didn't know where to start, but her detective instincts seem to point her in the right direction. Stepping carefully, she eyed each headstone. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

In a voice clogged with unshed tears, Joss started to speak. "I had a speech prepared to ask why you hadn't responded to my dad's letters. I know that you wouldn't have purposely missed his graduation. It broke his heart to get the invitation back. Little did I know that you had the best excuse." Joss felt the tears start to fall.

"I don't think I have to tell you that he died. I'm sure you two are catching up on everything. He was a good guy, and a great dad. I thank you for bringing him back to me. I can never pay you back for that act of bravery. I am in debt to you."

The wind blew harder and colder. Joss burrowed deeper into her coat.

"Thank you for John. He has his wild moments when he goes off on his own, but he's a great guy-a little like his dad, I would suspect." She smiled. "I promise to protect him and not let anything bad happen. It's the least I can do to repay the favour."

It was a long walk to the car. Once she was comfortable, she put the car in drive and headed east. Now she had to get back to Manhattan and try to put the pieces together. None of it made any sense, but once the HR debacle was over, she hoped to talk to John and get some answers. Then she would tell him what she knew. She only hoped he understood.

Then maybe she could thank him.


End file.
